A typhoon of agony pulsing through a grid of spears.
A victim of mass murder clutching a shaheed in fear
in a straight jacket of despiration grounded in faith
Swollen hearts destruct through a need to be safe.

Just cartoons of humanity in a bone dry land,
Their eyes wide like saucers, whilst diplomacy disbands
from wooden dolls that live on a hill,
that shut every door so that no one can feel,
That drawn out pain... those needles of despair,
leaving a child, a mother, a human out there.